


Summoningverse: Asides

by circumlocute



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Neglect, Fae & Fairies, Flashbacks, Gen, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circumlocute/pseuds/circumlocute
Summary: Various snippets, oneshots, and flashbacks taking place in the Summoningverse canon.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Aodhán: Teething

**Author's Note:**

> *comes back from over a year of hiatus and only posts contextless OC bullshit*
> 
> You’re welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TFW you kidnap a fae baby and were wildly unprepared to actually deal with the ramifications of raising a fae baby

“Giselle!” James called. James was...new, to their home, and a little unsteady on his feet. A little unclear where he fit in to their family. It was reasonable, of course, but Giselle was getting just a bit tired of answering his constant questions. 

“Giselle!” He called again. “It’s the uh...the baby?”

Right. The baby. 

“Coming!” She got up from her desk and made her way to the living room, rubbing her temples. She knew how important the baby was. Their oracle had insisted on it. And now that they’d gone through the trouble of finding a fae child who would fit in with their little family, they couldn’t just return him. But sometimes she just wished she could have a break, that was all. This wasn’t what she’d imagined her role to be here. 

In the living room, the baby was standing in the fish tank he slept in—150 liters, saltwater—hanging on to the edge to support himself. And he was screaming at the top of his lungs, stomping his little frog feet against the bottom of the tank. James, for his part, was holding a cloth to his shoulder. 

“Why is he in bed?” Giselle asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“He wouldn’t stop crying, so I—I don’t know, he sleeps in there, I thought it would calm him down. He bit me, Giselle, I kind of panicked!”

“He has a playpen,” she muttered, “if we put him in bed every time he misbehaved, he’d never leave.”

She glanced over at said playpen, the kiddy pool surrounded by puppy pads to catch the inevitable splashes. Several of the toys in there—mostly the little terrycloth-and-sponge stuffed animals—had apparently been chewed on, holes ripped in them and limbs torn off. Ah. Well, combine that, him biting James, and the fit he was throwing...

“He’s teething. No wonder he bit you.” The baby had noticed her presence and was reaching for her now, still crying. Giselle went to stand in front of the tank, putting on her best childcare voice.

“Hello there, little one. It’s okay. Stop crying, shhh-shh-shhh. It’s okay.” She picked him up, resigning herself to saltwater stains on her clothes. Careful not to let him rest his head on her shoulder, lest he bite, she bounced him on her hip. He stopped crying after a few moments, breaths slowly evening out. He rattled off a string of nonsense, patting his wet hand against Giselle’s face for emphasis. At least she’d stopped wearing makeup most days. 

“Gigi,” he said seriously, before launching into more babbling. It...was kind of cute, how he tried to say her name. 

“Let me see that bite,” she said to James, gesturing for him to come closer. The baby already had some of his teeth and could deliver a nasty bite when he wanted to. He had a few pointy little fangs, with another row behind them. It was frankly disturbing. 

And he certainly had done a number on poor James. Giselle hissed through her teeth at the sight (making the baby hiss too, although his mimicry sounded like a wild thing.) The cloth James had been holding to his shoulder was soaked with blood, and —mm. Those puncture wounds looked deep. They could be infected, and they might need stitches. They were still oozing blood. 

“Go see the healer.” It was better to treat these kinds of injuries in-house, after all. 

Once James had left, Giselle turned her attention towards the baby. She knew that if he was teething and she set him down, he’d just start crying again. But she couldn't just _hold_ him all day long. She had things to do, and he was getting heavy. What she needed was a distraction. 

“Okay, open your mouth. Is that where it hurts? Open up, let Giselle see. There we are.” She walked closer to a lamp, gently holding his mouth open with her thumb so he wouldn’t close it before she could look. Stupid mistake, really. Amateurish. She just got a glimpse of a red, swollen spot in the back of his mouth before he bit her. Of course he bit her, what had she been _thinking_? 

“Ow!” She swallowed the urge to yell at him, taking a deep breath. “No! No. No biting Giselle. Come on, let go.”

After a little coaxing, she got him to ease up on her finger, though he looked like he was about to start crying again. If she had to deal with another fit, she was going to scream. 

“Shh-shh. It’s okay. Don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s okay. Shhh.” She bounced him up and down again, holding her other hand away so as to not bleed on him. She needed that distraction, and fast. “You want a popsicle?”

That got his attention, eyes huge and wide. He nodded. 

“Yeah? Popsicle for your teeth? That sound good?” She carried him into the kitchen, wincing when he let out a delighted squeal at the sight of the fridge. God, she was getting a headache. 

She opened the freezer carefully, so as not to drip blood on it, and pulled out a frozen salmon fillet. The baby was wiggling with excitement now, reaching for it before she could even get it out of the vacuum sealed packaging. Once she gave it to him, he immediately started gnawing on it, eyes going squinty and half-closed with pleasure. Giselle savored the silence for a moment, before the painful throbbing in her thumb reminded her she had more pressing matters to worry about. She was dripping blood down to her wrist now, and she suspected he’d bitten nearly to the bone. Hopefully their healer was finished with James. 

“You really hurt poor Giselle,” she muttered, looking at the baby. Still clutching the salmon in one hand, he pointed at her thumb. “Yes. You did that. That wasn’t very nice, was it—ow!”

He’d grabbed her thumb, and was squeezing it hard, blood pooling up between his webbed fingers. Giselle swallowed a swear word, trying to figure out how to pry his hand away without damaging her hand more. He had sharp little nails.

Suddenly, her hand felt like it had been dipped in cold water, the pain slowly starting to fade. The cool feeling radiated from the the wound, spreading until it abruptly stopped. The blood was gone, and when she pulled her hand away, it was as though the wound was never there. The baby was staring at her, still gnawing determinedly away at his “popsicle.” 

“Oh,” she breathed.


	2. Asher & Lily: Violin recital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Category is: shitty parental figures being shitty. The twins are about about five, here.

“Mama, come on,” Asher whined, bouncing in place on the balls of his feet.

“Hold still, I’m almost done.” His mother straightened his bow tie one last time, brushing his curls out of his face. She should have gotten his hair cut, but it was such a _pain_ to get him to sit still for that long, and she forgot to ask the nanny to set up an appointment. Oh well. It wasn’t long enough that people would mistake him for Lily, at least.

“Can I go now?” He looked over, at the other children dressed up and ready to perform, still bouncing up and down. He’d never been one for being patient or still or calm. Lily either, although she tended towards explosions, whereas Asher’s was more a constant baseline of hyperactivity. She really needed to get him looked at for that.

But right now, it was time for his recital. He’d only been playing for a year or so—with just the most adorable tiny violin!—but she was sure he’d blow all of the other performers out of the water, even if it wasn’t strictly a competition. He was her son, after all.

“You know...” She tucked in his dress shirt and helped pull on his suit jacket. God. So cute. “I think you’re ready, yes.”

She knelt down to give him a hug, peppering his face with kisses. When she was done, she stood up and gently pushed Lily forward. 

“Give your brother a hug, sweetie.” Lily looked just precious too, in her puffy pink-and-white dress. Today was about Asher, of course, but god. Lily was so cute when she allowed herself to be dressed up. And the twins were just so adorable together like this, all formal and matching. 

Lily gave her a surly look and seemed for a moment like she might throw a tantrum, but hugged him anyway. Asher kissed her on the cheek and looked at their mother for approval to run off, once Lily let go. 

“Okay, yes, you can go. Break a leg, pyaare bete.” She kissed his forehead one more time for good measure before taking Lily to find a seat. 

If Asher did well, she couldn’t wait to tell the ladies at brunch all about it. A few of them had made snide comments about her putting him in lessons at this age, but she wanted to cultivate that talent. She’d love to see the looks on their faces after this. Could _their_ babies read sheet music yet? Could they even hold an instrument? She didn’t think so. They’d be eating their words when she got him into Julliard.

Most of the recital was dreadfully boring; she could sympathize with Lily’s loud sighs and restless kicking of her feet. Other people’s children weren’t why she was here, after all, and it felt like an eternity to get to surnames starting with L. At least he was the first one up once they got to that. 

He walked onto the stage, looking for a moment like a deer in the headlights. God, she hoped he didn’t get stage fright _now_. He was a little attention sponge, this was the perfect environment for him! And he could hardly be a violinist if he couldn’t perform. 

He seemed to snap out of it once he caught sight of Lily waving at him, and brought the violin into position. His instructor said he had excellent form for his age. She didn’t know much about that, but she certainly believed it. He was her son. Of course he was talented. 

‘Ode to joy’ wasn’t something she’d listen to normally, but it was an excellent opportunity to show what he’d learned. She pulled out her digital camera and started recording. She’d get a few copies put on CDs, mail them out to their grandparents and, you know, maybe give some to the ladies at brunch. She was just so proud of him. 

Once he was done performing, she went backstage to collect him. The instructor was hesitant to let him go early, but he’d finished his part, hadn’t he? There was no reason to sit around listening to other children pick their way through ‘Jingle Bells’ or ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ for however much longer. She convinced the instructor that it would mess up their bedtime if they didn’t leave now, and you know what, it was true! Yes, she took them out for pizza afterwards (god, she was glad that the housekeeper took care of the laundry; tomato sauce everywhere) but they needed to eat. 

After dinner, on the drive home she caught sight of them sleeping together in the back seat, Asher’s head pillowed on Lily’s shoulder, and Lily flopped back against the seat. When they weren’t screaming or throwing tantrums or insisting on distracting her, they could be so terribly cute. Even with pizza stains on their clothes. 

She couldn’t wait to show that video to someone. Now she just needed to find something Lily could apply herself to.


	3. Lily & Asher: Presentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GNC twins indulgence

Lily paused, on her way back to her room with a snack pilfered from the kitchen, and cocked her head. 

Music was playing, which wasn’t exactly unusual. Asher was constantly blasting whatever he could get his hands on, especially when mom wasn’t home; classical, the death metal he’d found in Lily’s browsing history, pop, whatever the hell nightcore was supposed to be, you name it. So the music being played wasn’t the strange part. No, the problem was that it was coming from _Lily’s_ bathroom. He had his own on the other side of the second floor, and if he had to invade someone else’s toilet, couldn’t it have been Mom’s?

She knocked on the door. It was her bathroom, but she’d at least like to give him a chance to pull up his pants if he was insisting on shitting in her toilet for some ungodly reason. 

No response. Fine. 

“You better not be fucking naked in there,” Lily shouted over the volume of the music, yanking the door open. 

“Jesus christ!” Asher jumped about a foot in the air, scrambling to shut off his music. He was—thank god—fully dressed, but he was holding a tube of something in one hand. 

“Ow, ow, ow, shit!” Asher covered one eye with his free hand, hopping up and down in pain. 

“What the fuck?”

Asher glanced down at the counter—with the eye that wasn’t covered, obviously—and glanced back up, almost sheepishly. 

“You made me stab myself in the eye with the fucking—” he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the makeup products Lily now noticed strewn across her counter. “—the mascara thingy.”

“Why were you putting on _my_ makeup in _my_ bathroom in the first place?” Lily grabbed a washcloth, running it under the sink and gesturing for Asher to sit. There was a hell of a lot to unpack here, but it could wait until the mascara was out of his eye. 

He sat on the toilet seat, and pulled his hand away from his eye slowly, like he was more afraid of Lily seeing it than he was of the pain. Leaning close to gently dab his eye, she noticed the shaky application of liner and foundation covering the zits he always complained about. 

“Seriously, what the fuck,” she repeated.

Asher shrugged, wincing when Lily dragged the washcloth too roughly against his face. “Dunno,” he mumbled. 

“Well, it’s fucking weird.” She set the cloth down, looking for the makeup wipes. She thought she’d gotten the worst of it, but now there was a dark smear of eyeliner and mascara around his eye, running down his cheek. 

“I know it’s fucking weird,” Asher responded, giving her a dirty look and yanking the wipe out of her hand. “Fuck. I know, okay. I can do this myself, god, I’ll just get out of your hair.”

“You break into my bathroom and you’re not even going to tell me why?”

Asher got to his feet. He was starting to get taller than her. They’d always been almost exactly the same height, growing up, and it rankled. 

“It’s not like you even use any of this shit,” he snapped, picking up the mascara tube from where he’d dropped it, screwing the lid back on. It was true. She hated the smell of makeup, the feel of it on her skin, how ridiculous it made her look, like a pretty little doll for her mother to show off. Most of it was still in its original packaging. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to just steal it!” Asher might be taller than her, but she was a damn sight sturdier. All that baby fat people kept telling her she’d lose one of these days. She braced herself in front of the bathroom door, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You have to at least tell me why.”

“Oh, come on!” 

“You broke into my bathroom. You fucking owe me, dude.”

Asher exhaled sharply through his nose, giving her a pained look. He’d lost enough wrestling matches by now to know that if Lily didn’t want to be moved, he sure as hell wasn’t going to budge her. It was satisfying, winning a fight without having to actually do anything, at least until Asher seemed to deflate. 

That was the problem with fighting her brother. She actually liked him sometimes, and seeing him curl in on himself like that made her stomach start to tie itself into ugly knots. 

“You are such a bitch, you know that?” He sighed, brushing a loose curl out of his face. The rest of his hair was done up in a hairtie on top of his head. He kind of looked like an onion. It would have been hilarious pretty much any other time, but even annoyed as she was, Lily had the common sense not to say anything about it. 

“I just...” Asher glanced away, shoulders hunched. “I just wanted to look pretty, okay? I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

“Oh.” Lily shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Fuck. I’m an asshole.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it.”

“You’re an asshole too,” she said, “I mean, for touching my shit without asking? Come on.” 

“Look, I’ll leave it alone, okay? I said I’d get out of your hair, so let me, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“No. Just ask first, next time you go in here.” Lily looked over at the counter, at all the unopened bottles and palettes of makeup their mother had bought her, collecting dust. At the streaky eyeliner still staining Asher’s face. “I mean, you’re right. I’m not using it. I don’t want that shit, and...you’re not stupid for wanting to look pretty, you know?” 

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s not stupid for you. You’re a girl, no one’s going to give a shit if you’re pretty. It’s not the same, you don’t get it.”

“I don’t want to be a pretty girl, idiot.” Lily huffed, gesturing to the ratty jersey she was wearing. “I don’t want to look like someone’s fucking barbie doll, okay? I’m just...I’m just saying, I get it, I guess? Wanting to look different than you’re supposed to.”

“Well, you’re doing a better job than I am,” Asher muttered. “I look like half a raccoon.” 

“Well—” Lily pursed her lips, thinking about all the nights she’d spent squeezing herself into dresses that she couldn’t move in without worrying about tearing them. Thinking about if maybe Asher had felt the same way, pulling on sharp black suits, wardrobe limited to shades of grey. 

“I mean, maybe racoons are in vogue right now, but I could teach you how to put it on? Mom showed me some stuff. I’m not, like, good at it, but...”

Asher looked at her with wide eyes. “You’d do that?”

Lily nodded. “And if anyone says shit about it I’ll kick their ass. You just have to do me a favor.”

“What?”

She stuck her hands in her pockets, thinking about the button-ups in her wardrobe. “You need to teach me how to put on ties and how to tell if blazers fit and shit. I’ve looked up guides but they don’t make any sense.”

Asher perked up almost immediately. “I can definitely do that. You’ll look so fucking swag, dude. I have a couple ties that you could totally rock.”

“Never call me swag again,” Lily said, fondly.


	4. Asher & Aodhan: Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is actually a flash-forward but

"Hold still," Asher said, eyes flicking up to give Aodhán a stern look. "Or I'm going to end up getting this all over your hands."

"It looks fine," Aodhán replied, leaning closer to admire Asher's handiwork. He'd painted all but three of Aodhán's frankly terrifying claws, dark black keratin now covered up in several coats of a glossy pink-silver duochrome polish Asher had picked out especially for them. Maybe a little tacky, at least to his tastes, but they liked it, and who was he to judge? "I like it."

"Yeah, it's cute. I'm good at my job, what can I say?" 

"You're cute."

Asher spluttered. It was hardly like the praise was _unwelcome_ , hardly like he'd never been complimented before, but the intensity in those big luminous eyes always caught him off-guard. And, you know, hearing that from someone who couldn't lie was always an ego boost.

"You're distracting me."

"Oh no," Aodhán singsonged, leaning closer. Their lips quirked upwards in a smile, just the barest flash of sharp teeth visible. "If I make you mess up, you'll have to start all over. And then where would we be?"

"You're so not subtle, babe." Asher snickered, swiping the brush over another claw. He could feel their cool breath against the side of his face as they watched, heard the faint clinking of their numerous piercings as they gave an amused little finflick. 

They twitched their finger, just enough for polish to spill over the cuticle and onto their skin. "Oops," they said, their voice positively _dripping_ smug.

"You're the fucking worst," Asher said, leaning back to arch a brow at them. It only made their grin widen, the corners of their eyes scrunching up with amusement. 

"You like it." Aodhán closed the miniscule distance between them, and Asher tilted his chin up for a kiss. Their lips were cool to the touch, like their breath; not unpleasant but forever just a little strange.

"Mm. Maybe."


End file.
